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liooiauy  uuyerji^uckel 


UBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  ©F 
CAUFOHNIA 

SAN  OIEGO 


MU 
f52. 


THE  FLYING  DUTCHMAN:  BY  WAGNER 
RETOLD  BY  OLIVER  HUCKEL 


BOOKS  BY  DR.  HUCKEL 


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WAGNER'S  MUSIC-DRAMAS 
Retold  in  English  verse 
RIENZI  RHEINGOLD 

FLYING  DUTCHMAN    WALKORE 
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LOHENGRIN  GOTTERDAMMERUNG 

TRISTAN  PARSIFAL 

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C|)e  JTI^tng  Butcljman 

(®er  iffUegenDe  l^oUanDer) 

A  .  DRAMATIC  •  POEM  •  BY  •  RICHARD 

WAGNER.  FREELY-TRANSLATED-IN 

POETIC  •  NARRATIVE  •  FORM  •  BY 

^\\\stx  i^ucfeel 


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PUBLISHERS  .  NEW  YORK 


CONTENTS 

FOREWORD  Page  ix 

PART  I 

The  Phantom  Ship  3 

PART  II 

A  Woman's  Love  17 

PART  III 

The  Troth  of  Death  39 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

Daland's  Departure  Frontispiece 

Senta  at  the  Spinning-wheel  Facing  page  i8 

The  Death  of  Senta  S3 


FOREWORD 

AGNER  had  written  two  acts  of  his 
Rienzi,—  his  imagination  was  on  fire, 
—  and  he  resolved  to  go  to  Paris  and 
I  storm  the  Grand  Opera,  feeling  sure 
that  something  must  come  of  it.  He  set  sail  in 
a  small  vessel  from  Pillau  on  the  Baltic  with  his 
young  wife  and  a  great  dog.  They  were  blown 
about  the  Baltic  for  three  weeks  in  a  terrific 
storm,  and  put  into  a  desolate  Norwegian  har- 
bor for  shelter.  On  that  tempestuous  voyage 
there  came  to  its  fulness  of  conception  the  theme 
of  The  Flying  Dutchman,  of  which  he  was  al- 
ready thinking.  He  wrote :  "Three  times  we  suf- 
fered from  the  effect  of  heavy  storms.  The  pas- 
sage through  the  Narrows  made  a  wondrous 
impression  on  my  fancy.  The  legend  of  The  Fly- 
ing Dutchman  was  confirmed  by  the  sailors, 
and  the  circumstances  gave  it  a  distinct  and 
characteristic  color  in  my  mind." 
The  legend  is  an  old  one,  much  older  than  the 
story  which  those  daring  Dutch  navigators  of 
the  fifteenth  and  sixteenth  centuries  had  some- 
how made  their  own.  It  is  a  mediaeval  version 
of  Ulysses,  "the  unresting  traveller,  yearning 
for  home  and  domestic  joys."  It  is  a  maritime 
version  of  Ahasuerus,  the  Wandering  Jew,  "ac- 
cursed and  hopeless  of  all  save  the  end  in  ob- 
livion. "The  Kundryof  Parsifal,  who  came  later, 
is  another  variation  of  the  theme  of  one  con- 
demned to  perpetual  wanderingand  weary  ex- 
istence. 

But  the  Dutch,  who  were  masters  of  the  sea 
and  to  whom  the  water  was  a  favorite  element, 

ix 


fotti^  adopted  the  venerable  legend  which  seemed  to 
hiorb  ^^^^  ^o  embody  "forever  the  avenging  vision 
of  men  who,  resolved  to  win,  had  so  often  dared 
and  lost  all."  It  was  typical  "of  their  own  battles 
with  the  powers  of  old  ocean,  and  their  deter- 
mination to  conquer  at  all  hazards."  Wagner 
was  first  interested  in  the  legend  as  he  read 
it  in  Heine's  story.  The  Memoirs  of  Herr  von 
Schnabelewopski.  Wagner  makes  a  note,  —  he 
was  a  young  musician  at  Riga  at  the  time,— 
as  follows : "  Heine  takes  occasion  to  relate  the 
story  in  speaking  of  the  representation  of  a  play 
founded  thereon  which  he  had  witnessed,  as  I 
believe,  at  Amsterdam.  This  subject  fascinated 
me,  and  made  an  indelible  impression  upon  my 
fancy;  still,  it  did  not  as  yet  acquire  the  force 
needful  for  its  rebirth  within  me."  But  the  force 
needful  for  the  rebirth  evidently  came  in  that 
stormy  voyage  on  the  Baltic. 
An  early  version  of  the  legend  was  printed  in 
Blackwood's  Magazine  for  May,  1821,  and  is 
supposed  to  be  the  source  from  which  came  the 
play  to  which  Heine  refers.  It  ran  thus:  "She 
was  an  Amsterdam  vessel  and  sailed  from  port 
seventy  years  ago.  Her  master's  name  was  Van 
der  Decken.  He  was  a  staunch  seaman,  and 
would  have  his  own  way  in  spite  of  the  devil. 
For  all  that,  never  a  sailor  under  him  had  rea- 
son to  complain ;  though  how  it  is  on  board  with 
them  nobody  knows.  The  story  is  this:  that 
in  doubling  the  Cape  they  were  a  long  day  try- 
ing to  weather  Table  Bay.  However,  the  wind 
headed  them  and  went  against  them  more  and 
more,  and  Van  der  Decken  walked  the  deck, 

X 


swearing  at  the  wind.  Just  after  sunset  a  ves-  ^ovt^ 
sel  spoke  him,  asking  him  if  he  did  not  m'ean  hiott) 
to  go  into  the  Bay  that  night.  Van  der  Decken 
replied :  *  May  I  be  eternally  damned  if  I  don't, 
though  I  should  beat  about  here  till  the  Day  of 
Judgment.'  And  to  be  sure  he  never  did  go  into 
that  Bay,  for  it  is  believed  that  he  continues  to 
beat  about  in  these  seas  still,  and  will  do  so  long 
enough.  This  vessel  is  never  seen  but  with  foul 
weather  along  with  her." 
This  story  reminds  us  of  an  American  legend 
of  the  Hudson,  related  by  Washing^ton  Irving 
in  his  early  tales  of  the  Dutch  in  New  Amster- 
dam, of  which  legend  there  is  still  a  reminder 
in  Spujrten  Duyvil  Creek.  It  also  brings  Cole- 
ridge's Ancient  Mariner  to  mind.  That  mariner 
is  under  a  curse  and  must  "pass  like  night 
from  land  to  land."  Recall  the  description  of  his 
vessel : 

"'Strange,  by  my  faith,'  the  Hermit  said— 
'And  they  answer'd  not  our  cheer ! 
The  planks  look  warped !  and  see  those  sails, 
How  thin  they  are  and  sere! 
I  never  saw  aught  like  to  them 
Unless  perchance  it  were 
Brown  skeletons  of  leaves.'" 

Wilhelm  Hauff  has  also  told  a  weird  tale  of 
the  phantom  ship  "Carmilhan,"  in  which  the 
doomed  seafarers  sing  a  most  sad  and  weary 
song,  like  that  in  The  Flying  Dutchman.  The 
story  closes  with  the  words:  "The  whole  pro- 
cession marched  away  in  the  same  order  in 
which  it  had  come,  and  with  the  same  solemn 

xi 


fOVC^  song,  which  grew  fainter  and  fainter  in  the  dis- 
tDOrtl   **"c^»  ^"*^^  finally  it  was  lost  in  the  roar  of  the 
breakers." 

Although  Wagner  obtained  the  germ  of  the 
story  from  Heine,  yet  he  gave  it  a  distinct  and 
splendid  mintage  of  his  own.  This  is  what  it 
meant  to  him.  He  writes:  "The  fi^re  of  The 
Flying  Dutchman  is  a  mythical  creation  of  the 
folk.  A  primal  trait  of  human  nature  speaks  out 
from  it  with  a  heart-enthralling  force.  This  trait 
in  its  most  universal  meaning  is  the  longing 
for  rest  after  the  storms  of  life.  The  sea  in  its 
turn  became  the  soil  of  life;  yet  no  longer  the 
land-locked  sea  of  the  Grecian  world,  but  the 
great  ocean  that  engirdles  the  earth.  The  fet- 
ters of  the  older  world  were  broken ;  the  long- 
ing of  Ulysses  for  home  and  hearth  and  wedded 
life,  until  it  became  a  yearning  for  death,  had 
mounted  to  the  craving  for  a  new  and  unknown 
home,  invisible  as  yet,  but  dimly  boded.  This 
broader  feature  fronts  us  in  the  mythos  of  The 
Flying  Dutchman,  that  seaman's  poem  of  the 
world-historical  age  of  journeys  of  discovery. 
Here  we  light  upon  a  remarkable  mixture,  a 
blend  effected  by  the  spirit  of  the  folk,  of  the 
character  of  Ulysses  with  that  of  the  Wander- 
ing Jew.  The  Hollandic  mariner,  in  punishment 
for  his  temerity,  is  condemned  by  the  Devil 
(here  obviously  the  element  of  flood  and  storm) 
to  do  battle  with  the  unresting  waves  to  all 
eternity.  Like  Ahasuerus,  he  yearns  for  his  suf- 
ferings to  be  ended  by  death.  The  Dutchman, 
however,  may  gain  this  redemption,  denied  to 
the  undying  Jew,  at  the  hands  of  a  woman  who 
xii 


of  very  love  shall  sacrifice  herself  for  him.  The  ^OXt:^ 
yearning  for  death  thus  spurs  *iim  on  to  seek  toocti 
this  woman;  but  she  is  no  longer  the  home- 
tending  Penelope  of  Ulysses,  as  courted  in  the 
days  of  old,  but  the  quintessence  of  Woman- 
kind; and  yet  the  still  unmanifest,  the  longed- 
for,  the  dreamt-of,  the  infinitely  womanly,  —  let 
me  out  with  it  in  one  word,  — 'The  Woman  of 
the  Future.'" 

Wagner  wrote  his  poem  of  The  Flying  Dutch- 
man in  a  libretto  sketch  and  offered  it  to  the 
director  of  the  Paris  Opera,  who  liked  it,  had 
it  translated  into  French,  and  then  coolly  gave 
it  to  another  composer  to  set  to  music,  who  did 
so  in  a  manner  which  caused  it  to  fail  com- 
pletely when  it  was  produced.  But  meanwhile 
Wagner  himself  had  been  working  on  it,  and 
in  the  spring  of  1841  he  moved  to  a  cottage  at 
Meudon,  near  Paris,  and  here  in  seven  weeks 
he  completed  the  poem  and  the  music  of  the 
whole  opera  except  the  overture.  It  was  a  great 
joy  to  him  to  find  that  he  could  thus  produce 
even  in  the  midst  of  his  troubles.  Here  is  a  bit 
of  his  autobiography  on  this  point:  "I  had  now 
to  work  post-haste  to  clothe  my  own  subject 
with  German  verses.  In  order  to  set  about  its 
composition  I  required  to  hire  a  piano-forte; 
for,  after  nine  months'  interruption  of  all  musi- 
cal production,  I  had  to  try  to  surround  myself 
with  the  needful  preliminary  of  a  musical  at- 
mosphere. As  soon  as  the  piano  had  arrived, 
my  heart  beat  fast  for  very  fear;  I  dreaded  to 
discover  that  I  had  ceased,  to  be  a  musician. 
I  began  first  with  the  Sailors'  Chorus  and  the 

xiii 


fotC:^  Spinning  Song.  Everything  sped  along  as  on 
tDOttl  wings,  and  I  shouted  for  joy  as  I  felt  within  me 
that  I  was  still  a  musician." 
But  neither  of  these  new  operas,  Rienzi  nor 
The  Flying  Dutchman,  was  acceptable  to  Paris. 
The  Grand  Opera  would  have  nothing  to  do 
with  them.  So  Wagner  despatched  his  scores 
to  Germany.  Munich  and  Leipzig  both  declined 
the  new  work  as  "unfit  for  Germany."  But 
finally  Dresden  accepted  Rienzi,  and  after  that 
had  proved  a  success,  it  accepted  The  Flying 
Dutchman.  The  latter,  however,  first  performed 
at  the  Royal  Saxon  Court  Theatre  on  January 
2,  1843,  was  not  very  cordially  received.  It  was 
evidently  too  serious  for  popular  favor.  It  had 
not  "the  glittering  processions,  splendid  scen- 
ery andgrouping,andimposingaction,"coupled 
with  brilliant  music,  that  characterized  Rienzi. 
Dresden  did  not  give  it  again  for  twenty  years, 
but  meanwhile  it  was  given  at  Berlin  in  1844, 
and  here  Wagner  received  some  encourage- 
ment. He  wrote  later:  "From  Berlin,  where  I 
was  entirely  unknown,  I  received  from  two  ut- 
ter strangers  who  had  been  attracted  towards 
me  by  the  impression  which  The  Flying  Dutch- 
man had  produced  on  them,  the  first  complete 
satisfaction  which  I  have  been  permitted  to  en- 
joy, with  the  invitation  to  continue  in  the  par- 
ticular directions  I  had  marked  out.  From  this 
moment  I  lost  more  and  more  from  sight  the 
variable  public.  The  opinion  from  a  few  intelli- 
gent men  took  the  place  in  my  mind  of  the  opin- 
ion of  the  masses  which  can  never  be  wholly 
apprehended,  although  it  had  been  the  object 
xiv 


of  my  labor  in  my  first  attempts,  when  my  eyes  JforC^ 
were  not  yet  open  to  the  light."  The  drama  was  Jjjorll 
not  given  in  England  until  1870,  and  even  then 
in  an  Italian  version,  L'  Olandese  Dannato. 
We  see  clearly  that  The  Flying  Dutchman  was 
another  distinct  step  in  Wagner's  development. 
Even  more  than  Rienzi,  it  began  to  assume 
the  form  of  a  music-drama,  rather  than  a  mere 
opera.  Wagner  wrote  of  it  that  here  he  shook 
off  the  last  prejudices  still  clinging  to  him  from 
the  time  when  he  composed  merely  for  musical 
instruments,  and  he  now  attained  the  definite- 
ness  of  the  drama.  Again  he  asserted:  "With 
The  Flying  Dutchman  began  my  new  career  as 
a  poet ;  I  was  now  no  longer  a  writer  of  operatic 
libretti.  Henceforward  in  my  dramatic  capacity 
I  was  in  the  first  place  a  poet;  not  until  the 
poem  came  to  be  fully  worked  out,  did  I  again 
become  a  musician.  But  as  a  poet  I  fully  divined 
the  power  which  music  possessed  for  enforcing 
my  words."  He  meant  that  now  at  last  he  had 
begun  to  find  himself  both  as  musician  and  poet. 
Rienzi  was  his  first  musical  work  of  unique  and 
worthy  character,  and  The  Flying  Dutchman 
was  his  first  great  poetical  achievement 
The  music  of  the  first  act  of  The  Flying  Dutch- 
man has  been  called  most  picturesque  and  weird. 
The  atmosphere  of  the  North  Sea  breathes 
through  the  whole  drama.  One  can  distinctly 
hear  "the  shrilling  of  the  north  wind,  the  roar- 
ing of  the  waves,  the  breaking  of  cordage,  the 
banging  of  booms, —  an  uncanny  sound  on  a 
dismal  night  at  sea."The  Sailors' Chorus  is  fine, 
bright,  and  tuneful.  The  Spinning  Song  is  a 

XV 


JOCC^  popular  melody  with  a  pure  lyric  grace  about 
JXjOrll  it.  Two  distinct  themes  are  heard  in  the  drama : 
the  theme  of  eternal  unrest,  sometimes  called 
the  damnation  motif  of  the  captain,  and  the 
theme  of  self-sacrifice,  which  may  be  called 
the  salvation  motif  of  the  bride.  These  are 
the  germs  of  what  later  became  Wagner's  leit 
motif  system  in  music.  Mr.  W.  J.  Henderson 
has  given  a  careful  characterization  thus: 
"Wagner  divined  clearly  the  necessity  of  sub- 
ordinating mere  pictorial  movements  to  the 
play  of  emotion,  and  it  will  easily  be  discerned 
that  the  three  acts  of  The  Flying  Dutchman 
reduced  themselves  to  a  few  broad  emotional 
episodes.  In  the  first  our  attention  is  centred 
upon  the  longing  of  the  Dutchman,  and  in  the 
second  upon  the  love  of  Senta.  In  the  third  we 
have  the  inevitable  and  hopeless  struggle  of 
the  passion  of  Erik  against  Senta's  love.  All 
music  not  designed  to  embody  these  broad 
emotional  states  is  scenic,  such  as  the  storm 
music  and  choruses  of  the  sailors  and  the 
women." 

Wagner's  conception  of  the  story  seems  to  be, 
as  H.  R.  Haweis  puts  it:  "Immense  unhappi- 
ness  drawn  by  magnetic  attraction  to  immense 
love,  tried  by  heart-rending  doubt  and  uncer- 
tainty, and  crowned  with  fidelity  and  trium- 
phant love,  the  whole  embodied  in  a  clear,  sim- 
ple story,  summed  up  in  a  few  situations  of  ter- 
rible strength  and  inexorable  truth— this  is  The 
Flying  Dutchman."  But  a  still  finer  summary 
of  the  story  in  fresh  and  picturesque  language 
is  given  in  Wagner's  own  comment  on  the  over- 
xvi 


1 


ture,  —which  is  in  itself  a  magic  and  tempestu-  fotC^ 
ous  foreword  to  the  drama.  Wagner's  explana-  )x)OtD 
tion  is  as  follows,  and  is  a  capital  example  of 
his  vigorous  prose  style:  "Driven  along  by  the 
fury  of  the  gale,  the  terrible  ship  of  The  Flying 
Dutchman  approaches  the  shore,  and  reaches 
the  land,  where  its  captain  has  been  promised 
he  shall  one  day  find  salvation  and  deliverance. 
We  hear  the  compassionate  tones  of  this  sav- 
ing promise  which  affects  us  like  prayers  and 
lamentations.  Gloomy  in  appearance  and  be- 
reft of  hope,  the  doomed  man  is  listening  to  them 
also.  Weary  and  longing  for  death,  he  paces 
the  strand,  while  his  crew,  worn  out  and  tired 
of  life,  are  silently  employed  in  making  all  taut 
on  board.  How  often  has  he,  ill-fated,  already 
gone  through  the  same  scene !  How  often  has 
he  steered  his  ship  on  ocean's  billows  to  the 
inhabited  shores  on  which,  at  each  seven  years' 
truce,  he  has  been  permitted  to  land !  How  many 
times  has  he  fancied  he  has  reached  the  limit 
of  his  torment,  and  alas !  how  repeatedly  has 
he,  terribly  undeceived,  been  obliged  to  betake 
himself  again  to  his  wild  wanderings  at  sea! 
In  order  that  he  may  secure  release  by  death 
he  has  made  common  cause  in  his  anguish  with 
the  flood  and  tempests  against  himself;  he 
has  driven  his  ship  into  the  gaping  gulf  of  the 
billows,  yet  the  gulf  has  not  swallowed  it  up ; 
through  the  surf  of  the  breakers  he  has  steered 
it  upon  the  rocks,  yet  the  rocks  have  not  broken 
it  in  pieces.  All  the  terrible  dangers  of  the  sea, 
at  which  he  once  laughed  in  his  wild  eagerness 
for  energetic  action,  now  mock  at  him.  They  do 

xvii 


fovti^  him  no  injury.  Under  a  curse  he  is  doomed  to 
tDOrti  wander  o'er  ocean's  wastes,  forever  in  quest  of 
treasures  which  fail  to  reanimate  him,  and  with- 
out finding  that  which  alone  can  redeem  him ! 
Swiftly  a  smart-looking  ship  sails  by  him ;  he 
hears  the  jovial  familiar  song  of  its  crew  as  re- 
turning from  a  voyage  they  make  jolly  on  their 
nearing  home.  Enraged  at  their  merry  humor, 
he  gives  chase,  and  coming  up  with  them  in 
the  gale,  so  scares  and  terrifies  them,  that  they 
become  mute  in  their  fright  and  take  to  flight. 
From  the  depth  of  his  terrible  misery  he  shrieks 
out  for  redemption ;  in  his  horrible  banishment 
from  mankind  it  is  a  woman  alone  that  can  bring 
him  salvation.  Where  and  in  what  country  tar- 
ries his  deliverer?  Where  is  there  a  feeling 
heart  to  sympathize  with  his  woes?  Where  is 
she  who  will  not  turn  away  from  him  in  horror 
and  fright,  like  those  cowardly  fellows  who  in 
their  terror  hold  up  the  cross  at  his  approach? 
A  lurid  light  now  breaks  through  the  darkness; 
like  lightning  it  pierces  his  tortured  soul.  It 
vanishes,  and  again  beams  forth.  Keeping  his 
eye  upon  his  g^iiding  star,  the  sailor  steers 
toward  it  over  waves  and  floods.  What  is  it  that 
so  powerfully  attracts  him,  but  the  gaze  of  a 
woman,  who,  full  of  sublime  sadness  and  divine 
sympathy,  is  drawn  towards  him !  A  heart  has 
opened  its  lowest  depths  to  the  awful  sorrows 
of  this  ill-fated  one ;  it  cannot  but  sacrifice  it- 
self for  his  sake,  and  breaking  in  sympathy  for 
him,  annihilate  itself  in  his  woes.  The  unhappy 
one  is  overwhelmed  by  this  divine  appearance ; 
his  ship  is  broken  in  pieces  and  swallowed  up 
xviii 


in  the  g^lf  of  the  billows;  but  he,  saved  and   5por0^ 
exalted,  emerges  from  the  waves,  with  his  vie-  )jp0t^{) 
torious  deliverer  at  his  side,  and  ascends  to 
Heaven,  led  by  the  rescuing  hand  of  sublimest 
love." 

OLIVER  HUCKEL 
May,  1914 


PART  I:  THE  PHANTOM  SHIP 


THE  PHANTOM  SHIP 

STEEP  and  rocky  cove  on  Norway's 
coast,  — 
[That  fairy-haunted  land  where  deep 
fiords 
Pierce  to  the  heart  of  mountains  strong  and 

mighty, 
Where  curling  mists  creep  round  the  lofty  cliffs 
That  tower  so  vast  that  those  who  upward  gaze 
Feel  but  as  atoms  in  infinity; 
Where  mountain  summits  higher  rise,  and  gla- 
ciers 
That  glance  and  flash  in  crystal  floods  of  light ; 
While  fairest  vales  of  green  in  beauty  hide 
Between  the  frowning  cliffs  and  lofty  moun- 
tains; 
Where  laughing  waterfalls  and  pouring  tor- 
rents 
A  thousand  feet  of  misty  floods  fling  down. 
To-day  the  headlands  darken  with  a  storm, 
The  clouds  hang  full  and  heavy  on  the  moun- 
tains 
With  lowering  tempest.  Near  the  shore  a 

barque, 
Norwegian  from  her  build  and  dim-seen  flag, 
Has  cast  her  anchor,  and  the  busy  sailors 
With  shouts  are  furling  sails  and  coiling  ropes. 
The  captain  of  the  ship  has  gone  ashore, 
And,  standing  on  a  high  rock,  landward  gazed, 
To  learn  perchance  what  region  they  have 

reached. 
The  sailors  sang:  "Yeho!  yeho!  Land  ho!" 
The  captain  shouted:  "On  board  there,  how 
goes  it?" 

3 


^6iP 


CfjC  The  helmsman  answered :  "Captain,  all  is  welll 

phantom    And  we  are  on  a  safe  and  holding  ground." 
"Ay,"  spake  the  captain,  "it  is  Sandwyk- 

Strand. 
Full  well  I  know  the  waters  of  this  bay. 
Far  off  upon  that  shore  I  see  my  home,— 
Senta,  my  child,  I  fancy  in  my  arms. 
She  waits  and  watches  for  me  even  now!  — 
Until  this  blast  from  devil's  depths  blew 

forth  I  — 
Who  trusts  the  wind,  trusts  all  the  craft  of 

Hell! 
What  hope  but  this, —  the  temi>est  will  not 

last,— 
When  thus  it  rages,  soon  its  wrath  is  spent. 
Yeho !  my  sailor  lads !  you  've  braved  the  storm ; 
Now,  take  it  easy,  for  the  worst  is  o'er! 
And,  gallant  helmsman,  take  the  watch  for  me 
While  down  below  I  seek  an  hour  of  rest 
Danger  is  fled,  yet  still  keep  sharp  lookout!" 

With  cheery  voice  the  helmsman  answered 

him: 
"Rely  on  me!  Rest  easy,  captain  mine." 
And  as  he  watched  and  steered  he  gaily  sang 
A  happy  sailor-song  of  long  ago : 

"*^  I'HROUGH  tempest  and  storm  from 
\^JL    far-off  seas. 

My  darling,  draw  I  near! 
O'er  billows  blown  by  the  southern  breeze, 

My  darling,  am  I  here ! 
My  darling,  if  there  were  no  South  wind, 

Ne'er  could  I  come  to  thee; 


O  dear  South  wind,  to  me  be  kind,  Cf)0 

My  darling  she  longs  for  me!  ^^IjantOltl 

Yeho !  yeho  1  My  lads,  yeho !  3shin 

Yeho !  and  hallo  1  Yehol  ^ ^^ 

"From  the  southern  shores,  from  the  far-off 
lands, 

On  thee  oft  have  I  thought  I 
Through  thunder  and  waves  from  the  Moor- 
ish strands 

A  gift  to  thee  have  I  brought. 
My  darling,  praise  the  sweet  South  wind, 

I  bring  thee  a  golden  ring,  — 
O  dear  South  wind,  to  me  be  kind, 

My  darling  doth  spin  and  sing. 
Yeho !  yeho !  My  lads,  yeho ! 

Yeho!  and  hallo!  Yehol" 

And  as  he  sang,  far-off  a  ship  appeared, 

A  strange  and  uncouth  hull  of  antique  bulk,  — 

Her  sails  were  blood-red,  her  tall  masts  were 

black, 
And  in  a  deadly  silence  drew  she  near, 
Piercing  the  curtained  blackness  of  the  night. 
Until  she  hove  to  by  the  Norwegian, 
Laying  alongside  almost  hull  to  hull. 
What  could  this  queer  craft  be,— so  weirdly 

built? 
Perchance  that  ship  men  called  "The  Flying 

Dutchman," 
Whose  legend  was  in  every  sailor's  heart?— 
That  reckless  mariner,  who  boldly  swore 
To  reach  his  port  in  spite  of  Heaven  or  Hell. 
Now,  for  his  blasphemy,  he  sails  the  seas 

5 


'^1^0  Forevermore,  and  never  reaches  port, 


l^ljantom 


And  never  can  attain  to  welcome  death 
Until  some  loving  woman  gives  her  life 
In  willing  sacrifice  for  his  redemption. 
But  as  the  years  go  on  his  heart  is  bitter, 
For  none  will  love  him.  Oft  upon  the  deck 
Headlong  he  flings  himself  in  black  despair. 
Now,  hark !  for  there  the  captain  of  the  craft 
Is  speaking.  There  he  stands  upon  his  deck ! 
Forsooth  some  sorrow  of  his  long-pent  heart 
Finds  words  in  heavy  sadness  and  despair. 
Yea,  listen  now,  for  he  is  moaning  forth 
His  clearly  heard  soliloquy  of  gloom: 
"The  time  is  up,  and  once  again  is  ended 
Another  term  of  seven  dreary  years ! 
The  weary  sea  casts  me  upon  the  strand. 
Ha,  haughty  ocean !  it  will  not  be  long 
Before  thy  waves  shall  bear  me  once  again. 
Thou  changest,  but  unchanging  is  my  fate. 
The  saving  help  which  on  the  land  I  seek 
Will  nevermore  be  found.  To  thee,  O  sea, 
Flowingthe  wide  world  round,  shall  I  bebound. 
Until  thy  last  great  billow  breaks  in  foam 
And  the  vast  flood  has  vanished  evermore. 
How  often  have  I  longed  to  find  a  grave 
Engulfed  within  the  ocean's  deepest  depths,  — 
But  nay!  the  face  of  death  could  not  be  found ! 
How  often  have  I  rushed  my  eager  ship 
Upon  the  rocks  to  find  the  wished-for  end,— 
But  nay!  there  was  no  tomb  among  the  rocks. 
Full  oft  I  boldly  sought  the  pirate's  sword 
In  wildest  conflict,  hoping  for  my  death : 
'Here!'  cried  I,  'show  thy  prowess  and  thy 
might, 
6 


Mi^ 


My  ship  is  freighted  with  all  treasure-store!*    'CJjC 

But  nay !  the  greedy  sea's  barbarian  son  ^hantOITI 

In  horror  crossed  himself,  and  took  to  flight! 

For  me  no  grave!  For  me  no  hope  of  death! 

Such  is  the  law  accurst  that  holds  my  doom. 

I  pray  thee,  now,  O  angel  bright  from  Heaven, 

Who  won  for  me  unlooked-for  help  and  grace, 

Was  I  the  unhappy  victim  of  thy  sport. 

When  thou  didst  show  to  me  the  way  of 

peace? 
Ah,  fruitless  hope!  Illusion  fond  and  false! 
For  faithful  love  dwells  on  the  earth  no  more. 
Only  a  single  hope  is  left  to  me, 
Only  one  wish  still  flutters  in  my  breast : 
It  is  that  this  old  earth,  though  still  it  whirls, 
Some  day  must  end  its  course  in  utter  ruin. 
O  day  of  judgment,  youngest,  latest  day. 
When  wilt  thou  dawn  and  quench  my  endless 

night? 
When  draws  it  nigh,  that  final,  awful  crash* 
In  which  the  whole  vast  universe  is  lost? 
When  all  the  dead  are  raised  again  to  life 
Then  death,  sweet  death,  shall  come  to  me  at 

last! 
Ye  worlds,  oh,  haste  and  end  your  whirling 

course 
And  bring  me  endless  rest  in  welcome  death!" 

Now  as  the  captain  wailed  in  piteous  tone,— 
For  dark  despair  enthralled  him  utterly,  — 
The  strange  crew  of  his  craft  reechoed  him : 
"And  bring  us  endless  rest  in  welcome  death !" 
The  Norway  captain  grimly  saw  and  heard ; 
But  all  unconscious  of  the  craft  and  speech 

7 


Mi9 


CfjC  His  helmsman  grasped  the  rudder,  humming 

phantom     ^ow. 

The  captain  called :  "  Yeho,  my  helmsman,  ho!" 
And  straight  he  spake :  "Ay,  ay,  sir !  all  is  welll" 
And  to  his  song  again  addressed  himself: 
"  O  dear  South  wind,  to  me  be  kind, 
My  darling—" 
Again  the  captain  called :  "  Dost  thou  see 

naught? 
Zounds!  Thou  art  keeping  sharp  lookout,  my 

mate! 
There  lies  a  ship!  How  long  hast  thou  been 

sleeping?  " 
He  gazed  astonished  at  the  phantom  ship. 
Whence  had  it  come,  and  how,  without  asound  ? 
He  felt  uncanny  and  ripped  out  an  oath: 
"By  the  devil!  't  is  so  !  Forgive  me,  captain 

mine! 
Ahoy,  yon  ship!  Ahoy,  ahoy,  I  say!** 
But  they  returned  no  answer  and  no  sign, 
And  with  a  laugh  the  Norway  captain  said : 
"They  seem  as  slow  and  dead  as  we  are  here !" 
Again  the  helmsman  called  :  "  Ahoy,  I  say ! 
Answer !  Whence,  whither,  tell  me  what 's  your 

flag?" 
But  quick  his  captain  held  him  with  the  words : 
"Forbear !  I  see  the  captain  on  the  deck. 
Ahoy,  good  seaman !  What 's  thy  ship,  and 

land?" 
And  the  strange  captain  answered  with  a  sigh  : 
"  Far  have  I  come !  Wouldst  thou  in  this  fierce 

weather 
Drive  me  from  anchorage  into  the  storm?" 
He  spake:  "Nay,  God  forbid!  The  mariner 
8 


Loves  well  good  fellowship.  But  what 's  thy      Cfj0 

name?"  ^^fjantom 

With  curious  tone  he  cried :  "  I  am  a  Dutch- 


man. 
But  as  he  spoke,  he  seemed  to  stand  aloft 
In  greater  form  and  nobleness  withal. 
Tall,  dark, and  dignified,  —a  handsome  man,— 
Full  bearded,  and  with  black  and  piercing  eyes. 
A  dark  hat  with  a  broad  and  flowing  brim, 
A  Spanish  mantle  trailing  from  his  shoulders,  — 
A  gentleman,  a  scholar,  and  a  captain, 
And  round  him  shone  the  silver  of  the  moon- 
light. 
The  Norway  captain  spake : "  Be  welcome,  then ! 
The  fierce  storm  drove  thee  to  this  rock-bound 

coast. 
I  fared  no  better,  though  a  few  leagues  hence 
My  home  awaits  me,  and  my  one  fair  daughter, 
Pride  of  my  heart  and  light  of  my  dear  home. 

0  adverse  winds !  Now  must  I  once  again 
Set  forth  to  reach  my  hearth.  But  tell  me, 

pray, 
Whence  comest  thou?  What  damage  hast 

thou  met?" 
And  the  weird  Dutchman  answered  with  a 

laugh : 
"My  ship  is  sound,  —  no  damage  can  it  suffer. 
Though  storms  may  rage  and  wildest  winds 

may  blow, 

1  wander  scathless  o'er  the  watery  wastes. 
How  long?  That  can  I  scarce  relate  to  thee, 
Since  I  no  longer  count  the  passing  years. 
Nor  could  I  name  for  thee,  if  thou  shouldst 

ask  it, 

9 


M>f^ip 


^&ip 


f^f^t  The  list  of  lands  where  I  have  been  in  port. 

phantom  That  land  alone  for  which  I  dearly  long, 

I  cannot  find, — my  own  dear  native  shore. 
Oh,  grant  to  me  a  little  while  thy  home. 
And  of  thy  friendship  thou  shalt  not  repent. 
With  treasures  brought  from  every  clime  and 

zone 
My  ship  is  richly  laden.  Wilt  thou  share 
Thy  humble  roof  with  me,  and  give  me  rest. 
Just  one  sweet  taste  of  home  and  sheltered 

peace, 
I'll  make  thee  sharer  of  my  treasure-store." 
Quick  spake  the  Norway  captain:  "Strange  it 

sounds  I 
How  can  I  well  believe  thy  wondrous  words? 
A  baleful  star  has  followed  thy  sad  life ; 
Would  I  might  serve  thee,  bless  thee,  if  I  can. 
Yet,  —dare  I  ask,— what  treasures  brings  thy 

ship?" 
Smiled  gently  the  Dutch  captain  as  he  said : 
"The  rarest  treasures  I  shall  show  to  thee, 
Most  precious  pearls,  and  stones  of  royal  cost. 
Behold  them,  and  know  well  their  priceless 

worth,  — 
All  these  I  offer  for  thy  friendly  roof." 

And  at  a  sign  his  men  brought  forth  a  chest 
Full  of  fair  silks  and  satins,  rubies,  pearls. 
And  emeralds,  and  gold  in  rings  and  bracelets. 
With  blank  amaze  the  Norway  captain  cried : 
"What!  Is  it  possible?  Such  costly  treasures  I 
Who  has  the  price  to  purchase  such  rare 

gems?" 
But  eagerly  the  Dutchman  answered  him : 

10 


"The  price?  The  price  already  have  I  named,—  Cl)f 

All  these  for  shelter  for  a  single  night!  ^i[)antOni 

Nay,  what  thou  seest  only  is  small  part  ^hU) 

Of  all  the  treasure  in  my  vessel's  hold. 

What  use  my  treasures  to  me?  For  no  wife, 

Nor  child,  nor  home,  nor  native  land  is  mine. 

So  all  my  riches  will  I  share  with  thee. 

If  thou  wilt  share  with  me  thy  humble  home." 

The  Norway  captain  mused:  "Can  it  be  true?" 

Again  the  Dutchman  asked:  "Hast  thou  a 

daughter? 
I  think  I  heard  thee  mention  thy  fair  daughter." 
He  made  reply:  "I  have,— and  dear  to  me." 
Then  cried  the  Dutchman,  for  a  secret  hope 
Had  risen  in  his  heart  that  here,  at  last, 
Might  be  the  destined  fair  deliverer: 
"A  wife  I  long  for.  Let  her  be  my  bride." 

The  Norway  captain  mused  in  joyous  thought : 
"How!  Heard  I  right?  My  daughter  for  his 

bride ! 
'T  is  from  deep  gratitude  his  offer  comes. 
Much  do  I  fear,  unless  I  close  with  him. 
That  he  as  suddenly  may  change  his  mind. 
Scarce  know  I  whether  I'm  awake  or  dream,— 
Most  welcome  such  a  splendid  son-in-law  1 
Mad  would  I  be  such  fortune  to  refuse. 
Full  charmed  will  I  accept  his  happy  terms." 
Most  wistfully  the  Dutchman  spake  to  him. 
Flaunting  again  the  treasures  of  his  coffers: 
"Alas,  I  have  no  wife,  nor  child,  nor  hearth, 
Nothing  to  bind  me  to  this  weary  world. 
Relentless  fate  pursues  my  bitter  life. 
The  curse,  the  curse,  is  ever  at  my  heels. 

II 


'^y^  Never  shall  I  reach  home  or  native  land. 

3^l)dntOtt1  What  good  to  me  my  jewels  and  my  goldl 
^()tt)  Come,  give  thy  daughter  to  me  as  a  bride, 

And  all  my  untold  wealth  shall  be  thine  own." 
But  still  in  doubt  the  Norwegian  held  off. 
And  spake  aloud  the  hesitating  words : 
"Yea,  stranger,  fair  and  lovely  is  my  daughter 
And  gives  her  father  all  a  true  child's  love ; 
She  is  my  pride,  the  best  of  my  possessions, 
In  grief  my  comfort,  and  in  mirth  my  joy." 
More  eagerly  the  smiling  Dutchman  spake: 
"Always  her  father  shall  receive  her  love,  — 
If  true  to  him,  true  to  the  man  she  weds." 
The  Norway  captain  shook  his  head  and  said : 
"Thou  givest  jewels  and  most  precious  pearls. 
The  rarest  treasure  is  a  faithful  wife  —  " 
"Thou  givest  me?"  he  asked  most  tenderly. 
"Yea,"  said  the  other;  "here  I  pledge  my  word. 
I  mourn  thy  fate.  So  generous  thou  art. 
I  have  discerned  thy  noble  heart  and  soul. 
I  want  thee  for  my  son.  And  were  thy  wealth 
Not  half  so  great,  no  other  would  I  choose!" 
"I  thank  thee,"  cried  the  Dutchman,  "from  my 

heart. 
And  shall  I  my  fair  bride  behold  to-day?" 
"The  next  good  wind,"  he  said,  "shall  bear  us 

home. 
Then  thou  shalt  see  her.  If  she  pleases  thee — " 
"She  shall  be  mine  I"  he  cried  with  eagerness. 
"The  angel  to  absolve  me  from  my  fate ! 
When  out  of  torment's  hard  unceasing  toil 
My  heart  has  longed  for  saving  peace  and  rest, 
To  me  't  was  given  to  cling  with  desperate 
courage 
12 


^I^ip 


To  one  faint  hope  that  ever  with  me  dwelt.        f^f^t 
Dare  I  in  this  fair  fancy  now  to  revel,  phantom 

That  such  sweet  angel  shall  release  me  soon?    *^^ 
And  after  this  tormenting  ceaseless  anguish 
I  shall  attain  at  last  to  peace  and  rest? 
Ah !  all  but  hopeless  though  I  seem  to  be, 
Yet  does  my  heart  still  cling  to  this  one  hope!" 
Most  cordially  the  Norway  captain  spake: 
"Praised  be  the  storm  that  drove  me  on  this 

strand ! 
Forsooth,  at  first  I  did  my  fate  bewail, 
But  now  I  thank  the  tempest  and  the  waves 
That  brought  us  here  together  to  this  coast. 
Yea,  any  father  might  in  truth  rejoice 
In  such  a  son-in-law,  such  lucky  fate. 
With  this  dear  son  of  wealth  and  noble  heart 
I  gladly  share  my  daughter  and  my  home!" 

And  now  the  storm  has  ceased  and  winds  are 

fair. 
The  helmsman's  voice  is  singing  the  old  song: 

"O  dear  South  wind,  to  me  be  kind!" 
While  all  the  sailors  shout:  "Yeho!  yeho!" 
Spake  the  Norwegian:  "See,  thy  luck  has 

turned ! 
The  wind  is  fair,  the  sea  is  calm  and  bright. 
We'll  hoist  the  anchor,  set  the  billowing  sails, 
And  reach  my  happy  home  this  very  day!" 
Again  the  sailors'  chantry  sounded  out: 
"Yeho!  yeho!  My  lads,  yeho! 

Yeho!  and  hallo!  Yeho!" 

The  Dutchman  spake :  "  If  I  might  but  suggest. 
Lead  thou  the  course.  The  wind  is  fresh  and  fair. 

13 


i^f^t  My  crew  are  weary ;  I  will  let  them  rest ; 

phantom  ^^^^  ^"  ^  ^^^^^^  while,  ril  follow  on." 

*^  The  other  asked :  "  But  if  the  wind  should 


^&ip 


change?" 
He  answered : "  Nay,  this  wind  will  steady  blow. 
'T  is  from  the  faithful  South,  both  fair  and 

strong. 
My  ship  is  swift.  'T  will  overtake  thee  soon." 
Quoth  he :  "  Forsooth,  thy  ship  must  make 

good  speed. 
Farewell!  To-day  thou  may'st  my  daughter 

see!" 
And  with  a  joyous  cry,  he  spake :  "God  grant!** 

So  the  fair  Norway  craft  put  out  to  sea, 
While  her  proud  captain  scanned  his  ship  and 

cried: 
"Yeho!  how  quick  the  winds  have  filled  the 

sails! 
Yeho  !  my  sailor  lads,  come,  work  away!" 
And  as  they  worked  their  hearty  voices  sang: 

"«^^H ROUGH  tempest  and  storm  from 
vJL     far-off  seas, 

My  darling,  draw  I  near ! 
O'er  billows  blown  by  the  southern  breeze, 

My  darling,  am  I  here ! 
My  darling,  if  there  were  no  South  wind, 

Ne'er  could  I  come  to  thee ; 
O  dear  South  wind,  to  me  be  kind, 

My  darling  she  longs  for  me! 
Yeho  !  yeho  1  My  lads,  yeho  ! 

Yeho  land  hallo!  Yeho!" 


14 


PART  II:  A  WOMAN'S  LOVE 


A  WOMAN'S  LOVE 

GREAT  room  in  the  Norway  cap- 
tain's home, — 
Captain  Daland  his  name,— an  hon- 
ored name 

Through  all  the  coast  of  Norway  and  afar. 
For  many  years  has  he  the  deep  sea  followed, 
Knows  well  the  perils  of  the  Northern  main. 
The  howling  storms  and  all  their  fierce  sea- 
children. 
The  black  sea-gulls  that  beat  the  hurtling 

winds. 
He  knows  the  drifting  perils  of  the  icebergs, 
And  all  the  anger  of  the  hidden  reefs. 
His  good  ship  oft  has  fought  the  desperate 

gale. 
And  oft  escaped  the  lure  of  storm-tossed  head- 
lands 
And  singing  surges  beating  on  the  diifs. 
High  o'er  the  sounding  sea  his  craft  has  sped 
Full  many  a  league,  fierce  driven  by  the  fiends 
Of  awful  whirlwinds  near  the  dreaded  mael- 
strom,— 
"  O  Christ!  he  cried,  "be  near  and  steer  me 

straight!"  — 
But  ever  after  all  the  storms  of  life 
Here  in  this  home  has  he  found  peace  and  rest, 
Among  his  books  and  friends,  by  his  own  fire- 
side. 
Maps,  charts,  and  sea-views  line  the  captain's 

walls. 
And  in  the  midst  a  portrait  strange  and  weird. 
Painted  long  years  ago,  and  bought  by  him 
On  one  of  his  far  voyages  to  Holland. 

17 


311  D^O^  The  visage  of  a  man  with  handsome  face, 

man  V    ^^^  ^^^^  ^"^  ^^^'  ^^  ^^  enthralled  of  fate ; 

His  beard  is  black,  his  cloak  of  Spanish  cut. 


%o)ae 


Fair  Senta  sat  and  gazed  long  at  the  portrait 
As  if  a  secret  spell  was  on  her  soul, 
While  all  the  maidens  spinning  at  their  wheels, 
Her  gay  companions  for  the  afternoon,  — 
Fair  maidens,  rosy  cheeked,  with  golden  hair 
In  circling  braids,  like  crowns  around  their 

heads, 
And  bright  blue  eyes,  sparkling  with  innocence, 
Their  dainty  garments,  simple,  pure,  and  sweet, 
Their  bodices  and  slippers  quaint  and  neat, 
The  pride  and  gladness  of  Old  Norway's 

strand,— 
Sang  merrily  this  cheery  spinning  song: 

"*1pSjUM  and  buzz,  good  wheel  awhirl- 
^JL    ing, 

Lively,  lovely  dance  around ! 
Spin,  a  thousand  threads  a-twirling, 

Let  the  pleasant  music  sound! 
My  sweetheart  sails  the  ocean  o'er, 
For  home  he  sighs 
And  dear  one's  eyes. 
My  faithful  wheel,  oh,  rush  and  roar! 
Ah,  if  thy  breeze 
But  ruled  the  seas, 
'T  would  soon  my  love  to  me  restore! 
Maidens  spinning. 

Din,  din,  din! 
Sweethearts  winning, 
Spin,  spin,  spin!" 
z8 


SENTA    AT    THE    SPINNING-WHEEL. 


Then  up  spake  good  dame  Mary,  her  old  nurse,    '^  tBOi 
Mistress  of  all  the  sisters  of  the  distaff:  mmi'tf 

"Just  see!  how  busy  every  wheel  is  flying!  qr  vi 

Such  industry  must  surely  win  us  sweethearts!"    ^^'^^ 
But  quick  they  cried  together  in  reproof: 
"Dame  Mary,  pray  be  still!  for  well  you  know 
Our  spinning  song  is  not  yet  at  an  end! " 
She  laughed,  and  answered  them  with  spark- 
ling eyes : 
"Sing  on!  stop  not  your  wheels  for  all  the 

world! 
But,  Senta,  dear,  why  dost  thou  silent  sit 
While  all  the  rest  are  singing  at  their  wheels?" 
And  once  again  their  voices  sweetly  sang: 

"*X^UM  and  buzz,  good  wheel  awhirl- 
Jk  JL    ing, 

Canter,  gallop,  dance  around ! 
Spin,  a  thousand  threads  a-twirling, 

Turn,  good  wheel,  with  humming  sound! 
On  distant  seas  my  love  doth  sail. 
In  southern  lines 
Much  gold  he  mines. 
Turn,  turn,  my  wheel,  nor  tire  nor  fail! 
The  gold  he  wins 
For  her  who  spins ! 
Her  ears  shall  hear  his  loving  talel 
Spin,  spin! 

Busy  maiden  I 
Hum,  wheel. 
Music-laden!" 

Still  watching  the  fair  Senta,  as  she  gazed 
Upon  the  painting,  Mary  smiling  spake: 

19 


%  tBOi^    "Thou  naughty  child,  if  thou  dost  do  no  spin- 
man'^  ning, 
Slobt         ^^y  lover  will  not  give  thee  any  gift !" 

But  all  the  maidens  laughed  and  gaily  spake: 
"There  is  no  need  for  her  to  toil  and  spin, 
Her  lover  does  not  sail  the  stormy  main, 
'T  islusciousgame,  instead  of  gold,  he  brings. 
One  quickly  learns  a  happy  huntsman's 

worth!" 
And  the  arch  Mary  added:  "Look  at  her! 
Always  before  that  painting!  Senta,  child, 
Art  thou  to  dream  away  thy  girlhood's  life 
Just  gazing  at  that  visage  of  a  man?" 
But  Senta  answered  her  in  quiet  mood : 
"Why  hast  thou  told  me  of  his  many  sorrows? 
I  learned  from  thee  his  hapless  fate,  poor 

soul!" 
Quoth  Mary  softly:  "God  be  with  thee,  girl!" 
And  others  cried:  "Alas!  what  do  we  hear? 
Her  sighs  are  for  this  pale  and  phantom  man !" 
Moaned  Mary:  "Her  poor  head  is  sore  dis- 
traught!" 
Another  spake:  "What  power  a  picture  has!" 
And  Mary  added  in  a  lower  tone : 
"  Useless  it  seems,  though  I  should  chide  each 

day. 
Come,  Senta,  turn  thy  pretty  eyes  toward  us." 

But  Senta  moved  not,  and  they  whispered  fast : 
"She  does  not  hear  or  mind  thee, —she's  en- 
thralled ! 
Alack !  This  may  turn  out  a  sad  affair! 
You  know  how  hot  and  jealous  Erik  is,  — 
20 


Hobe 


He  scarce  can  bear  an  insult  or  a  slight.  %  V^XX:^ 

Say  naught,  lest  blinded  by  a  jealous  rage,       niaitV 
He  shoot  this  hated  rival  on  the  wall." 
Stirred  to  the  quick,  poor  Senta  fiercely  cried : 
"  Now  cease  your  foolish  jesting,  empty  heads. 
My  temper  is  fast  reaching  breaking  point." 
So  they  desisted  and  once  more  they  sang: 
"Hum  and  buzz,  good  wheel  awhirling, 
Canter,  gallop,  dance  around! 

Spin,  a  thousand  threads  a-twirling, 
Turn,  good  wheel,  with  humming  sound  I " 
Spake  Senta  with  a  weird  look  in  her  eyes : 
"Enough  now  of  this  endless  spinning  song. 
Its  hum  and  buzz  weary  these  ears  of  mine. 
If  you  would  bring  me  to  your  way  of  thought. 
You  must  seek  out  a  better  song  than  that!" 
They  cried : "  Good,  sing  abetter  song  thyself! " 
She  answered :  "  Nay,  much  rather  would  I 

hear 
Dame  Mary  sing  that  ballad  that  I  love." 
Quoth  Mary:  "God  forbid  !  no  ballad  for  me! 
'T  is  time  to  let  'The  Flying  Dutchman' rest." 
But  Senta  would  not  be  rebuffed,  and  spake : 
"How  oft  I  've  heard  you  sing  it!  Why  not 

now? 
Then  I  will  sing  it.  Harken,  girls,  to  me. 
The  tale  of  sorrow  and  relentless  fate 
For  one  poor  man.  'T  will  surely  touch  your 

hearts." 
They  cried:  "Well,  let  us  have  the  song!" 
While  she  insisted :  "  Mark  my  every  word  ! " 
"  Yea,  every  spinning-wheel  shall  rest ! "  they 

cried. 
"Except  mine," muttered  Mary,  "it  shall  spin !" 

21 


Eobe 


3(1  IB  0:?  Then  Senta,  seated  in  an  old  armchair, 
inan'jtf     Senta,  the  fairest  maiden  of  them  all, 

Senta,  the  golden  haired,  the  rosy  cheeked, 
Senta,  the  blue-eyed  and  the  loving  hearted, 
Senta  of  merry  laugh  and  jolly  jest. 
Now,  with  a  solemn  spell  upon  her  face 
And  with  a  mystic  light  within  her  eyes. 
Sang  this  weird  ballad  of  "The  Flying  Dutch- 
man :" 

HOY!  yeholyeho!  hallo! 
Saw  ye  the  ship  on  the  stormy  deep, 
Night-black  the  mast,  blood-red  the  sail ! 
On  deck  unceasing  watch  doth  keep 

The  strange  ship's  captain,  sad  and  pale. 

Hurrah !  How  roars  the  wind.  Yeho!  yeho! 

Hurrah!  How  bends  the  mast.  Yeho!  yeho! 

Hurrah !  Like  an  arrowsheflies,  without  aim. 

Without  goal,  without  rest,  forevermore. 

"Yet  can  this  sad-faced  seaman 
Be  freed  from  the  curse  infernal, 
If  on  land  he  can  find  a  woman 

To  pledge  him  her  love  eternal. 
Ah,  that  redemption  may  come  to  his  life. 
Grant  him,  O  Heaven,  the  gift  of  a  wife. 

"Once,  when  the  winds  and  seas  were  wroth. 
He  sought  round  a  certain  cape  to  sail. 

He  cursed  and  swore  a  mighty  oath : 
'I'll  do  it  spite  of  Heaven  and  Hell.' 

Alack !  This  oath  old  Satan  heard ! 

Alack !  He  marked  it  every  word ! 

Alack !  He  condemned  him  to  sail  the  sea 
Without  haste,  without  rest,  forevermore. 

22 


itobe 


"Yet,  that  the  wretched  man  might  find  3J[  t©0^ 

A  full  redemption  here  on  earth,  man'irf 

Some  woman  must  have  an  angel  mind 

And  show  to  him  her  loving  worth. 
Ah,  may'st  thou,  spectral  seaman,  soon 
Receive  from  Heaven  this  blessed  boon. 

"Every  seven  years  he  seeks  a  port. 

To  find  a  bride  he  wanders  round. 
Every  seven  years  he  is  fate's  disport, 

For  never  a  faithful  wife  is  found. 
Yeho !  unfurl  the  sails !  yeho ! 
Yeho !  weigh  anchor  now !  yeho ! 
Yeho!  false  love,  false  faith,— to  the  sea 

Without  haste,  without  rest,  forevermore !" 

And  as  she  ended,  cried  the  maidens  all : 
"Ah,  where  is  she  to  whose  deep  loving  heart 
God's  angel  may  direct  thee  for  redemption? 
Where  lingers  she,  thy  very  own  till  death, 
O  spectral  captain,  whatsoe'er  betide  thee?" 
With  sudden  ecstasy,  fair  Senta  cried : 
"Would  I  were  she!  Would  that  my  love 

might  save  thee! 
Would  that  God's  angel  might  direct  thee 

hither. 
Through  me  to  bring  redemption  to  thy  life!" 
And  Mary  and  the  maidens  cried,  amazed : 
"  Heaven  help !  Why,  Senta !  Thou  'rt  beside 

thyself!" 

Sudden  her  lover  Erik  in  the  doorway,— 
A  stalwart  youth,  with  face  of  ruddy  glow. 
And  fair  blue  eyes, — a  lad  like  a  young  viking, 

23 


%  })^0^   Clad  in  the  mountain  hunter's  brave  array; 

ITian'^      And  as  he  came  he  heard  her  fervent  words, 

«»  .  And  stunned  and  hurt  he  cried  in  grim  de- 

**'*'^  spair: 

"Senta,  my  Sental  wouldst  thou  give  me  up!" 
And  all  the  maidens  crowding  round  him  cried : 
"  Good  Erik,  help  us !  She  has  clean  gone  mad  I " 
And  Mary  said:  "This  outburst  breaks  my 

heart! 
Accursed  painting,  out  thou  goest  from  here 
As  soon  as  her  dear  father  comes  again." 
Spake  Erik:  "He  is  now  upon  the  way!" 
Cried  Senta:  "What,  my  father  coming  now!" 
He  spake  :  "From  yonder  cliff  I  saw  his  sail." 
And  all  the  maidens  cried  with  joyous  hearts : 
"Our  sailor  lads  are  coming!  Come,  let 's  go !" 
But  prudent  Mary  spake  with  knowing  look: 
"  Hold,  eager  hearts !  Let  us  snug  up  the  house  I 
Our  sailor  lads  have  healthy  appetites,— 
They  will  be  asking  for  the  cake  and  wine. 
Keep  back  your  anxious  souls  a  little  longer. 
Nor  leave  undone  a  single  needful  task." 
Gaily  they  answered:  "Much  have  we  to  ask 

them. 
We  cannot  long  hold  back  our  eager  hearts. 
Quick,  make  all  right,— the  house,  and  cake, 

and  wine,  — 
Then  not  a  single  duty  holds  us  longer." 

Sudden  the  voice  of  Erik  eager  called: 
"Stay,  Senta!  Just  a  single  moment,  stay. 
And  from  this  desperate  torture  set  me  free. 
Thou  wilt  not  thus  forsake  and  cast  me  off!" 
But  Senta  asked :  "Andshall  this  surely  come?" 
24 


Ilobe 


Impetuous  he  spake  with  trembling  fears:         %  |©0; 
"O  Senta,  speak!  What  will  become  of  me?      niaitV 
Thy  father  nears.  Ere  he  again  sets  sail 
He  will  fulfil  what  often  he  has  planned." 
And  as  she  asked :  "Erik,  what  dost  thou 

mean?" 
He  answered  quick :  "To  choose  a  husband  for 

thee! 

0  Senta,  listen  as  I  speak  this  word : 
My  heart  is  faithful  to  thee  until  death, 
My  frugal  cot,  my  huntsman's  happy  skill,— 
Dare  I  present  them  humbly  to  thy  hand? 
Would  my  proud  offering  be  quickly  spurned? 
If  my  fond  heart  in  bitter  sorrow  broke, 
Say,  Senta,  who  would  plead  mycause  forme?" 
She  spake:  "Let  these  things  rest.  Let  me  be 

gone. 

1  haste  to  greet  my  father  as  he  comes, 
For  if  this  once  his  daughter  fails  to  meet  him 
Upon  the  ship's  deck,  hurt  his  heart  will  be." 
Cried  Erik:  "So,  wilt  thou  escape  from  me?" 
She  answered:  "I  must  hasten  to  the  port." 
Persisted  he:  "My  presence  dost  thou  shun?" 
But  firmly  she  exclaimed:  "  Nay,  I  must  go!" 

Then  in  a  deep  despair,  he  fondly  pleaded: 
"Wilt  thou  go  forth  and  leave  the  wound  still 

bleeding 
Which  thou  hast  made  in  this  most  loving 

heart? 
Oh,  listen  to  me  in  this  parting  hour! 
Hear  what  I  ask,  my  final  fondest  hope. 
Say,  when  this  heart  with  woe  is  sorely  break- 
ing, 

25 


Hobe 


%  Wo^  Will  it  be  Senta  who  shall  plead  for  me?" 
inau'tf     ^^^  answered:  "What !  Thou  doubtest  my 

true  heart? 
Thou  questionest  if  I  am  kind  to  thee  ? 
Now,  tell  me,  what  has  stirred  up  this  new 

passion? 
What  is  it  fills  thy  soul  with  dark  dismay?" 
He  cried :  "Thou  knowest,— wealth  thy  father 

seeketh. 
And,  Senta,  thou,— how  dare  I  count  on  thee? 
I  pray  thee  only  grant  this  one  petition. 
Grieve  not  my  heart  so  deeply  every  day." 
Quoth  she:  "Thy  heart?  What  have  I  done  to 

it?" 
He  spake :  "What  must  I  think  ?  That  picture 

there!" 
She  smiled  and  said:  "What  ails  that  picture 

there?" 
Replied  he:  "  Nay,  but  thy  infatuation—" 
Asked  she:  "And  can  I  show  no  sympathy?" 
He  added:  "And  that  ballad  that  thou  lovest, 
The  strange  weird  ballad  that  thou  sang'st  to- 
day." 
She  said:  "I  'm  like  a  child,  and  scarce  I  know 
What  songs  I  sing.  But  tell  me,  Erik,  now. 
And  dost  thou  fear  a  ballad  and  a  painting?" 
He  spake:  "Thou  art  so  pale.  This  is  my  fear." 
She  asked :  "  Should  I  not  grieve  for  his  sad 

fate?" 
But  Erik  looked  at  her  and  fondly  cried: 
"  Senta,  doth  not  my  sorrow  grieve  thee  more  ?  " 
Softly  she  answered:  "Thou  hast  said 

enough. 
Hast  thou  a  sorrow  like  the  woe  he  bears? 
26 


Dost  thou  not  know  this  sad  one's  awful  doom  ?    ^  JDO; 
Look,  with  what  anguish,  what  deep,  dark         niailV 

despair,  %oht 

His  piteous  eyes  are  looking  now  on  me ! 
Ah !  what  a  bitter  and  relentless  fate  1 
How  deep  the  sympathy  that  wrings  my 

heart!" 
Moaned  Erik:  "Woe  is  me  I  My  sad  dream's 

true! 
May  God  protect  thee !  Satan  snares  thee 

now!" 
And  as  he  muttered  prayer,  fair  Senta  cried : 
"What  doth  affright  thee  that  thou  turnest 

pale?" 
Spake  he,  with  solemn  voice:  "Now,  Senta, 

list! 
A  dream  it  was,  —  heed  thou  its  warning  voice ! 
I  lay  upon  a  lofty  cliff  a-dreaming 
And  gazed  across  the  silver  shimmering  sea. 
I  heard  the  billows  ever  ceaseless  roar 
As  on  the  beach  they  wildly  leaped  and  broke. 
A  foreign  ship  lay  nearby  in  the  offing. 
I  marked  her,  weird  and  wonderful  to  see,— 
Two  men  drew  near  upon  the  landing-place, 
And  one  I  clearly  saw,  — thy  father  dear-  " 
And  eagerly  she  asked :  "Who  was  the  other?" 
Slowly  he  spake:  "Him  also  well  I  knew. 
With  Spanish  mantle,  black  and  ghostly 

mien—" 
"And  sad  appealing  eyes,"  she  added  quickly. 
"That  mariner  in  yonder  frame,"  he  said. 
Then  Senta  asked:  "And  was  I  in  the  dream?" 
"  Yea,"  answered  Erik,  "  from  this  house  thou 

camest, 

27 


%o\yt 


%  U^O^  And  hastened  to  give  greeting  to  thy  father, 
Itian'j^     Yet  scarcely  hadst  thou  reached  thy  father's 

side 
Ere  thou  wert  kneeling  at  the  stranger's  feet 
Clasping  his  knees  in  tenderest  entreaty." 
Asked  Senta:  "What  did  he?  He  raised  me 

up?" 
Spake  Erik :  "Yea,  he  raised  thee  to  his  breast, 
And  thou  didst  cling  to  him  with  fervor  wild 
Giving  him  kiss  for  kiss  impassionate." 
Eager  she  asked:  "And  then— what  happened 

then?" 

A  moment  Erik  paused  in  gloomy  wrath: 
"  I  saw  him  take  thee  on  his  shadowy  ship 
And  carry  thee  away  to  unknown  seas." 
And  Senta,  thralled  by  pity,  slowly  mused : 
"He  seeks  for  me!  Surely  I  must  behold  him ! 
And  with  him  I  must  fathom  all  the  depths." 
Cried  Erik: "  Frightful  end!  Ha,  it  is  clear 
She  is  foredoomed !  My  darkest  dream  was 

true!" 
But  Senta,  yet  spellbound,  mused  on  and 

spake : 
"Ah,  spectral  seaman,  that  thou  soon  mightest 

find  her! 
May  Heaven  grant  him  this  true,  faithful 

bride!" 

Scarce  had  her  words  gone  forth,  when  lo,  a 

sound 
Of  opening  doors,  and  on  the  threshold  stood 
Her  father,  and  a  stranger  by  his  side,— 
A  stranger,  tall  and  handsome,  sad  of  face, 
28 


A  Spanish  mantle  round  his  shoulders  thrown.    ^  3©0; 

In  truth  a  living  semblance  to  the  sailor  ItianV 

Whose  portrait  hung  there  yonder  on  the  wall.    %ti\)t 

And  Senta  with  amazement  was  o'erwhelmed 

And  stood  in  silence,  as  her  father  cried: 

"  My  child,  thou  seest  me  here  upon  the  thresh- 
old,— 

Yet  no  caress,  and  not  one  loving  kiss? 

Thoustandest  there  as  if  transfixed  and  dumb! 

Do  I  deserve,  my  Senta,  such  a  greeting?" 

She  gasped:  "God  guard  thee  well,  O  father 
mine! 

Who  is  this  stranger  coming  here  with  thee?" 

And  looking  at  him  proudly,  with  a  smile 

Of  happy  triumph,  quickly  spake  her  father: 

"Wouldst  know  this  stranger  who  is  now  my 
friend? 

Wilt  thou,  my  child,  give  him  a  friendly  greet- 
ing, 

True  mariner,  like  me,  yet  now  our  guest? 

Long  without  home  he  wandered  far  and  wide; 

Vast  wealth  from  distant  lands  he  has 
amassed. 

And  since  from  his  own  land  he  is  an  exile. 

He  offers  all  if  he  can  share  our  home. 

What  sayest  thou,  Senta,  if  this  noble  stranger 

Should  here  abide  beneath  our  humble  roof?  " 

Then,  bowing  to  his  guest,  he  spake  again 
In  joyous  tone  and  with  unfeigned  delight: 
"Pray,  tell  me,  have  I  spoken  overpraise? 
Look  for  thyself!  Is  not  my  daughter  fair? 
May  not  my  heart  o'erflow  with  fervent  praise  ? 
Confess  how  full  she  is  of  charm  and  grace. 

29 


41  41^0^  Wilt  thou,  my  child,  give  welcome  to  our  guest 
man  ^     And  also  welcome  give  him  to  thy  heart? 
^Obe        Give  him  thy  hand,  for  bridegroom  shalt  thou 
call  him. 

Do  as  thy  father  fondly  doth  desire, 

And  thou  to-morrow  morn  shalt  wedded  be. 

Look  on  these  bracelets  and  behold  thesegems. 

And  these  are  trifles  from  his  wondrous  wealth. 

Dost  thou  not  long  to  have  them,  dearest  child  ? 

And  all  shall  be  thine  own  the  very  hour 

The  wedding-ring  is  slipped  upon  thy  finger. 

What!  Neither  speaks  1  Why  should  I  linger 
here? 

I  see!  'T  were  best  that  they  be  left  alone.  — 

My  daughter,  may'st  thou  win  this  noble  man ! 

Believe  me,  such  good  fortune  ne'er  comes 
twice. 

Stay  here  together;  I  will  leave  you  now. 

Farewell,  dear  sir,  my  daughter  will  be  gra- 
cious ; 

She  is  as  true  as  she  is  beautiful." 

He  hurried  off,  and  they  were  left  alone. 
Ah,  do  they  start !  A  secret  tremor  stirs  them ; 
A  mystic  something  binds  their  secret  souls. 
A  moment  gazed  the  stranger  at  her  face, 
Then  slowly  to  himself  his  thought  spake  forth : 
"  Out  of  the  days  of  the  dim  distant  past 
This  maiden's  face  and  form  appear  to  me. 
What  I  have  dreamed  through  countless  years 

of  sorrow 
Before  my  eyes  at  last  do  I  behold  1 
Oft  has  the  longing  for  a  noble  woman 
Burned  in  my  heart  during  my  darkest  moods. 
30 


But  it  was  Satan  and  his  evil  passion  511  l©0; 

Leading  me  on  to  anguish  and  despair.  ITWnV 

Now  this  new  glow  that  flames  within  my  ^tt\tp 

heart—  «.ODE 

Dare  I,  accurst,  proclaim  it  love's  devotion  ? 

Ah,  no !  this  longing  for  repose  and  peace, 

Would  it  through  such  an  angel  come  tome!" 

As  if  enthralled,  fair  Senta  slowly  spake : 

"  O'erwhelmed  I  seem  in  dreams  most  wonder- 
ful! 

Is  it  a  vision  that  mine  eyes  t>ehold. 

Or  am  I  now  set  free  from  long  delusion, 

And  day  at  last  has  truly  dawned  for  me? 

See,  there  he  stands,  his  face  with  sorrow 
laden,— 

He  speaks  to  me  his  mingled  hope  and  fear; 

Is  it  the  voice  of  sympathy  deceives  me? 

No,  as  in  dreams  I  saw  him,  stands  he  there ! 

The  sorrow  that  within  my  bosom  burns. 

Ah!  this  compassion  —  shall  I  call  it  so?  — 

Mingles  with  thy  deep  longing  for  redemption. 

Through  me,  sad  soul,  pray  God  to  send  re- 
lease." 

Their  cheeks  are  flame.  A  sudden  love  they 
feel. 

Her  father's  sordid  greed  is  all  forgot, 

'T  is  love  and  pity  only  that  speak  forth  — 

The  dream  of  yesterday,  the  dream  of  love, 

That  floats  o'er  time  for  all  eternity. 

Eager  he  asked,  hope  rising  in  his  heart: 

"Wilt  thou  thy  father's  wish  and  will  fulfil? 

What  he  has  promised,  darest  thou  confirm? 

Wilt  thou  forever  give  thyself  to  me 

And  reach  thy  loving  hand  to  save  a  stranger? 

31 


31  tBo^  And  shall  I  find  at  last  the  end  of  trouble, 
irirtii'rf     ^"  ^^y  ^^^^  ^^^^  ^^^  long-sought  peace  and 
'^        rest?" 


Eobe 


Most  earnestly  she  spake  and  gave  him 

answer: 
"Whoe'er  thou  art  and  whatsoe'er  the  curse 
That  with  relentless  woe  has  driven  thee ; 
Whate'er  the  doom  that  I  shall  share  with 

thee, 
My  father's  will  by  me  shall  be  obeyed." 
Again  he  spake  with  wonder  in  his  words : 
"So  innocent  and  full  of  childlike  trust. 
How  canst  thou  feel  compassion  for  my  woes?" 
She  made  reply:  "Oh,  wondrous  woes  and 

griefs ! 
Would  I  might  bring  some  comfort  and  some 

peace!" 
And  at  these  tender  words  he  cried  with  joy: 
"Thy  voice  is  music  in  my  night  of  woe! 
Thou  art  an  angel,  and  an  angel's  love 
Can  peace  and  comfort  bring  to  my  sad  heart ! 
Ah,  if  redemption  still  be  mine  to  hope. 
Heaven  grant  that  it  may  come  to  me  through 

thee!" 
And  Senta  deeply  echoed  his  heart's  prayer: 
"Ah,  if  redemption  still  be  his  to  hope. 
Heaven  grant  that  it  may  come  to  him  through 

me. 

Half  doubting  still  the  miracle  of  grace 
That  seemed  so  near,  he  spake  the  trembling 

words: 
"Oh,  if  thou  knewest  fully  the  dire  fate 
Which  must  be  fully  borne  by  thee  with  me, 
32 


Wouldst  thou  have  given  me  thy  solemn  %  H^O; 

promise,  man'rf 

Wouldst  thou  have  sworn  to  be  my  own  true  ^^^^ 

bride  ?  *OuC 

Thy  heart  had  shuddered  at  the  awful  doom 
That  gave  to  me  thy  glorious  golden  youth 
Before  thou  thus  surrendered  all  to- me, 
Thine  innocence,  thine  honor,  and  thy  trust !" 
But  with  a  childlike  face  of  earnestness 
She  answered  him,  in  happy  truthful  words : 
"Well  do  I  know  a  woman's  holy  duties, — 

0  sad,  unhappy  man,  me  canst  thou  trust ! 
Leave  me  to  do  the  right  whate'er  the  fate, 
For  all  its  dread  decrees  do  I  defy! 
Within  the  secret  realm  of  sacred  conscience 

1  know  the  high  demands  of  faith  and  love. 
Him  whom  I  choose,  I  choose  forevermore. 
And  loving  him,  I  love  him  e'en  till  death!" 
Exultantly  he  cried  at  this  new  vow: 

"A  heavenly  balm  for  all  my  wounds  and  woes 
Flows  from  her  oath  and  holy  plighted  word!" 
While  Senta  in  a  happy  thraldom  spake : 
"  'T  was  surely  some  mysterious  magic  power 
That  made  me  thus  his  glad  deliverer." 
With  constant  and  increasing  joy  he  cried : 
"Hark  ye!  redemption  have  I  found  at  last! 
Ye  mighty  powers  who  erstwhile  laid  me  low! 
Star  of  misfortune,  thou  art  growing  pale ! 
Light  of  my  hope,  thou  shinest  radiant ! 
Ye  angels,  who  once  utterly  forsook  me. 
Strengthen  my  heart  again,  and  keep  it  true ! " 
And  looking  on  him  with  her  loving  eyes 
Bright  with  faith's  light  and  tender  with  love's 
tears, 

33 


%  tBo^  Dear  Senta  spake  to  him  in  kindest  way: 
Itian^i^     "Here  shalt  thou  find  at  last  a  peaceful  home, 
^  .  Here  shall  thy  ship  reach  port  and  be  at  rest. 

fiOuC       What  power  is  it  that  lives  and  moves  in  me? 
What  impulse  stirs  my  heart  to  do  this  deed  ? 
Almighty  God,  who  givest  me  the  courage, 
Grant  me  the  strength  to  be  forever  true!" 

E'en  as  she  spake,  her  father  came  again 
And  looked  at  them  with  eager  questioning    ■ 

gaze 
And  careful  words  of  fair  apolog^y : 
"Pardon,  if  I  break  in  upon  you  now. 
But  these  good  folk  and  neighbors  will  not 

wait. 
After  each  voyage,  you  know,  there  comes  the 

feast. 
I  would  enhance  it,  so  I  come  to  ask 
If  your  espousals  are  agreed  upon. 
Methinks  you  have  been  talking  heart  to 

heart. 
Senta,  my  child,  say,  dost  thou  give  consent?" 
And  dutiful  and  happy  she  replied: 
"  Here  is  my  handl  Freely  I  give  my  troth, 
And  promise  to  be  faithful  unto  death." 
While  with  a  shout  of  gladness,  and  his  face 
Beaming  with  hope,  the  Holland  captain  cried : 
"She  gives  her  hand  to  me!  She  gives  her 

troth! 
Now  are  ye  conquered,  all  ye  evil  powers!" 
The  father  smiled,—  his  hopes,  his  dreams 

come  true, 
Senta  his  daughter  soon  to  be  a  bride. 
The  Holland  captain  soon  to  be  his  son, 
34 


The  wedding  dowry  of  the  untold  wealth.  %  WOi 

He  kissed  his  faithful  daughter  joyously  maitV 

And  in  exultancy  proclaimed  his  heart :  ILohp 

"  Ne'er  shall  ye  rue  this  happy  wedding-troth  1 
Come  to  the  feast!  To-day  let  all  rejoice!" 


35 


PART  III:  THE  TROTH  OF  DEATH 


THE  TROTH  OF  DEATH 

TILL  are  we  in  the  glorious  land  of 

Norway,— 
The  land  of  simple  hearts  and  simple 

faith, 

The  land  of  noble  mountains,  stormy  seas, 
And  beautiful  great  bays,  and  waterfalls. 
Here  is  a  deep  fiord,  quiet  but  grand. 
With  rocky  cliff  and  happy  green-dad  hills. 
Upon  this  slope  the  Norway  captain's  home,— 
A  charming  home  in  sweet  simplicity 
Among  its  pine  trees  and  its  fertile  fields. 
And  yonder,  on  the  waters  of  the  fiord. 
Lay  side  by  side  the  vessels  anchored  still,— 
The  one  the  Norway  craft  by  build  and  sail. 
The  other  one  the  foreign  Holland  ship 
Of  blood-red  sails  and  masts  of  ebon  hue. 
The  night  is  clear;  the  heavens  full  of  stars. 
The  Norway  ship  is  gaily  lighted  up. 
The  sailors  making  merry  on  the  decks. 
But  on  the  Holland  ship  a  darkness  broods, 
And  silence,  as  of  death,  reigns  over  it. 
Full  lustily  the  Norway  sailors  sang: 

"•X^ELMSMAN,  leave  the  watch !  All  dan- 
Ji^JL    ger'spast! 

Helmsman,  hoi  yeho!  We're  home!  we'r6 
home! 
See,  the  sails  are  furled,  the  anchor  fast! 
Helmsman,  leave  the  watch  and  with  us 
come! 
Hurrah,  heigho !  let  storms  and  tempests  come ! 
Heigho,  our  helmsman !  here  at  last  we  're 
home! 

39 


SDeatfj 


CJ?  "  No  more  we  fear  the  gale  or  rocky  strand, 

'droth  of       ^"^  ^^^  ^^^  ^^y  right  merry  shall  we  be ; 
Each  sailor  has  a  sweetheart  on  the  land, 
With  her,— and  pipes  and  wine, — good-by 
the  sea. 
Hurrah,  heigho !  let  storms  and  tempests  come ! 
Heigho,  our  helmsman!  here  at  last  we  're 
home!" 

Now  nearby  on  the  strand  in  best  array, 
Bearing  their  dainty  baskets  heaped  with  cakes 
And  carrying  jugs  of  fragrant  native  wine, 
Came  down  to  greet  them  all  the  village 

maidens. 
With  merry  laughter  and  with  laughing  eyes. 
And  loud  they  cried  with  jolly  raillery : 
"No,  do  our  eyes  deceive  us?  They  are  dancing ! 
They  look  so  merry  and  self-satisfied. 
Of  course  theyneed  no  maidens  for  theirfrolic !" 
But  catching  sight  of  them  the  sailors  cried : 
"  Ho,  maidens,  halt !  Where  are  you  going  so 

fast?" 
They  answered,  laughing:  "Ah,  you  scent  the 

goodies. 
Your  neighbors  yonder  must  not  starve  to 

death! 
Others  need  food  and  drink  as  well  as  you!" 
The  helmsman  spake :  "  Too  true !  Those 

wretched  fellows 
Seem  wilted  down  for  just  the  lack  of  drink." 
One  sailor  said :  "  How  deathly  still  they  are ! " 
The  helmsman  added :  "  Yea,  how  strange  the 

deck! 
No  sign  of  light,  no  trace  of  any  seamen!" 
40 


2Deatl^ 


Then  called  the  maidens  to  the  Holland  ship:   Cf)e 
"Ho,  sailors,  ho !  We  bring  a  torch  with  us !     ^rotl)  Of 
Where  have  they  gone  ?  We  can  see  no  one 

here." 
The  Norway  sailors  cried :  "  Don't  wake  them 

up! 
They  're  all  asleep,  and  let  them  slumber  on  1" 
Again  the  maidens  called:  "  Ho,  sailors,  an- 
swer ! " 
Laughed  the  Norwegians :  "Ha,  ha !  They  are 

dead! 
They  have  no  further  need  for  cakes  and  wine  1" 
Still  cried  the  maidens :  "  Ho  !  sailors,  sound 

asleep ! 
Wake  up,  and  keep  the  feast  with  us  to-day." 
The  Norway  sailors  mocked:  "They're  all 

below. 
Like  dragons  watching  o'er  their  hidden  gold." 
The  maidens  called :  "  Ho,  here  is  golden  wine ! 
Surely  your  thirsty  hearts  mustheed  that  call!" 
But  still  the  Holland  craft  no  answer  gave ; 
Darkness  and  silence  brooded  on  its  deck ; 
And,  quite  content,  the  Norway  sailors  cried: 
"  They  do  not  drink,  they  will  not  sing. 
And  not  a  light  is  glimmering  on  their  ship. 
Leave  them  alone,  they  have  no  need  of  you  !'* 
But  still  the  maidens  gave  them  one  chance 

more 
And  loudly  called:  "  Have  you  no  sweethearts 

here? 
Will  you  not  come  and  dance  with  us,  your 

friends?" 
Then  laughed  the  Norway  sailors  in  great 

glee: 

41 


Cljt  "Nay,  they  are  old,  their  hair  is  thin  and  gray, 

CtOti)  of   And  all  their  sweethearts  dead  these  many 

2Dcath         y^^^s." 

The  kindly  maidens  gave  a  parting  call : 
"Ahoy  there,  sailors!  Waken  up,  we  say! 
We  bring  you  dainty  cakes  and  a  cheering  cup  1 
No  sound!  no  answer!  Surely  they  are  dead! 
No  further  need  have  they  for  food  or  drink!" 
Then  spake  the  Norway  helmsman:  "True, 

most  true ! 
No  further  need  have  they  for  food  or  drink. 
Surely  you  've  heard  of  the  weird  Flying  Dutch- 
man,— 
This  is  his  'ship  as  truly  as  I  live!" 
Then  cried  the  maidens :  "  Pray  don't  wake  the 

crew! 
They  must  be  ghosts, — yea,  we  are  sure  they 

are!" 
Again  he  spake:  "How  many  hundred  years 
Upon  the  sea,  more  feared  than  rock  or  storm ! " 
The  maidens  cried :  "  They  do  not  drink,  nor 

sing. 
And  not  a  light  is  burning  on  their  deck." 
The  sailors  mocked:  "  Have  you  no  word  or 

letter 
For  us  to  carry  to  some  great-grandfather?" 
Echoed  the  maidens:  "All  are  old  and  gray. 
And  all  their  sweethearts  dead  these  many 

years." 
Again  the  Norway  sailors  called  and  mocked: 
"  Ho,  phantom  sailors,  spread  your  canvas  out, 
AndletTheFlyingDutchman  show  his  speed." 
The  maidens  sighed :  "They  hear  not !  We  're 

afraid ! 
42 


They  want  us  not.  Why  should  we  longer         'Cf)0 
stay?"  €rot^  of 

And  all  the  Norway  sailors  cried  with  joy :        SDeath 

"  Ye  maidens,  give  the  dead  to  peace  and 
rest! 

Let  us,  the  living,  taste  the  cake  and  wine!" 

So  to  the  Norway  ship  the  maidens  came 

With  all  their  wine  and  dainties,  and  the 
words : 

"Well,  since  your  quiet  neighbors  have  re- 
fused them. 

Take  ye  the  goodies,  and  be  gay  of  heart!" 

But  nothing  satisfied,  the  sailors  called: 

"How?  Only  cakes  and  wine,  and  not  your- 
selves? 

Will  you  not  come  and  dance  with  us  awhile?  " 

They  laughed  and  gaily  answered :  "  No,  not 
now! 

'T  is  ours  to  see  that  all  have  cake  and  wine. 

This  is  a  special  feast-day  for  us  all. 

After  a  while  we  '11  come.  Now,  drink  away, 

And,  if  you  will,  on  with  the  merry  dance. 

Only  don't  wake  your  weary  neighbors  up!" 

"Hurrah!"  the  sailors  cried,  "we  have  a  feast! 

Here  are  most  luscious  cakes  and  golden 
wine! 

All  thanks  to  thee,  our  neighbor.  Flying  Dutch- 
man." 

The  Norway  helmsman  cried:  "Yea,  let  each 
man 

Fill  up  a  bumper  and  with  thousand  thanks 

Toast  our  dear  neighbor  here.  The  Flying 
Dutchman." 

43 


Cj0  They  cried :  "  Hurrah !  yeho !  yeho !  heigho ! 

CrOtt)  of  Good  neighbors,  if  ye  have  a  voice  and  speech, 
SD0dth        Wake  up  at  last  and  join  our  merriment. 

Wake  up  and  sing  this  jolly  song  with  us!" 
And  so  they  sang  with  lusty  voices  all : 

"•y:^  ELMSMAN,  leave  the  watch !  All  dan- 
A^JL    ger'spast! 

Helmsman,  ho,  yeho !  We  're  home,  we  're 
home! 
See,  the  sails  are  furled,  the  anchor  fast ! 
Helmsman,  leave  the  watch  and  with  us 
come! 
Hurrah,  heigho !  let  storms  and  tempests  come ! 
Heigho,  our  helmsman!  here  at  last  we  're 
home! 

"  Full  many  a  night  we  watched  in  storm  and 
stress ! 
Oft  have  we  drunk  the  salt  and  briny  wave. 
Sweethearts,  we  watch  to-day  in  dainty  dress. 
And  golden  wines  our  thirsty  throats  do  lave ! 
Hurrah,  heigho !  let  storms  and  tempests  come ! 
Heigho,  bold  helmsman !  we  're  at  home,  at 
home!" 

At  last  the  songs  and  shoutings  seemed  to 
wake 

The  sleeping  sailors  of  The  Flying  Dutchman. 

They  crawled  up  from  below  decks  and  ap- 
peared 

Like  phantoms  in  the  moonlight,  and  they 
gathered 

Close  to  the  helm,  and  sang  an  answering  song 
44 


Wtatf^ 


With  muffled  voices  and  deep  hollow  tones,     C()C 

Like  eerie  ghosts,  with  long  white  hair  and     ^roth  of 
beards, 

All  hollow-eyed  and  withered  wrinkled  faces. 

And  as  their  voices  fell  upon  the  wind, 

The  waves  began  to  stir  around  their  ship, — 

All  else  was  calm  and  silent  as  the  grave, — 

The  billows  squirmed  in  melancholy  ire, 

The  shrill  winds  shrieked  through  all  the 
trembling  rigging, 

And  a  weird  flame,  a  dim  and  ghostly  watch- 
fire. 

Flared  out  upon  the  deck,  a  pale  blue  light. 

And  thus  their  ghostly  voices  dreary  sang: 

"•y-^EHOIAhoyl 
-J^*  Land  is  here  and  storm  is  past! 

Hurrah  I 
Sails  are  furled!  The  anchor  fast! 

Hurrah ! 
Safe  within  the  bay  at  last, 

Hurrah ! 

"  Sad-faced  captain,  go  on  land, 

Now  that  seven  years  have  flown ; 
Seek  a  faithful  maiden's  hand, 
Faithful  maiden,  be  his  own. 

"Bridegroom,  let  thy  hopes  be  strong! 
Hurrah! 
Storm-winds  be  thy  wedding  song, 

Hurrah! 
Billows  with  thee  dance  along. 
Hurrah ! 

45 


'^f^t  "Captain,  captain,  hast  returned? 

'CtOtf)  of  Hark,  his  piping,— 'Off  to  sea!' 

E>0dtll  Him  the  hoped-for  bride  has  spurned. 

Captain,  no  good  luck  for  thee! 

"Blow,  ye  storm-winds,  howl  and  blow! 

Hurrah ! 
What  care  we  how  fast  we  go! 

Hurrah ! 
Satan  fills  our  sails!  Yeho! 

Hurrah!" 

So  dismal  and  so  gruesome  was  the  song. 

While  all  around  was  calm  and  awful  silence. 

The  ship  tossed  up  and  down,  the  winds  were 
sobbing, 

And  the  sad  song  from  ghostly  throats  out- 
poured 

Ended  with  curses,  shrieks,  and  muttered 
laughter. 

Then  all  was  deathlike  stillness,  and  the  light. 

The  pale  blue  of  the  ghostly  watch-fire,  sank. 

And  the  Norwegians  crossed  themselves  in 
terror. 

They  felt  the  blood  creep  in  their  veins  and 
spake 

Below  their  breath:  "By  Heaven,  what  a 
song ! 

They  look  and  sing  like  ghosts.  God  save  our 
souls ! 

Come,  let  them  hear  a  song  from  living  men. 

Up,  every  man,  and  sing  his  best  and  loud- 
est!" 

Then  with  a  shout  the  Norway  sailors  sang: 
46 


•••p^  ELMSMAN,  leave  the  watch !  All  dan-   Cf)C 
X^I^     ger'spast!  Crotl)  of 

Helmsman,  ho,  yeho !  We  're  home !  we  're     2[)0ath 
home ! 

See,  the  sails  are  furled,  the  anchor  fast  I 
Helmsman,  leave  the  watch  and  with  us 
come! 

Hurrah,  heigho !  let  storms  and  tempests  come ! 

Heigho,  our  helmsman  !  here  at  last  we  're 
home ! 

"No  more  we  fear  the  gale  or  rocky  strand, 

But  all  the  day  right  merry  shall  we  be ; 
Each  sailor  has  a  sweetheart  on  the  land, 
With  her,— and  pipes  and  wine,— good-by 
the  sea ! 
Hurrah,  heigho !  let  storms  and  tempests  come  1 
Heigho,  our  helmsman!  here  at  last  we're 
home! 

"  Full  many  a  night  we  watched  in  storm  and 
stress ! 
Oft  have  we  drunk  the  salt  and  briny  wave. 
Sweethearts  we  watch  to-day  in  dainty  dress, 
And  golden  wines  our  thirsty  throats  do  lave  1 
Hurrah,  heigho !  let  storms  and  tempestscome ! 
Heigho,  bold  helmsman !  we  're  at  home,  at 
home !" 

Sudden  came  Senta  hurrying  from  the  house, 
Her  lover  Erik  following  at  her  heels, 
In  wild  dismay,  and  uttering  wrathful  words: 
"Have  I  my  senses?  God!  what  do  I  see!— 
A  vision,  or  the  truth?  Oh,  tell  me  quick!" 

47 


SDeatl^ 


'^f^t  But  Senta  put  him  off:  "  Oh,  ask  me  not. 

Crott)  of    Erik,  I  cannot,  dare  not  answer  thee." 

And  in  a  grim  despair  his  heart  cried  out : 
"Just  God !  There  is  no  doubt !  I  know  'tis 

true! 
What  dark,  unholy  power  has  snared  thy  soul  ? 
What  evil  spell  has  cruelly  led  thee  on 
To  rend  in  twain  my  loving,  faithful  heart  ? 
Thy  father 't  was,  alas,  who  brought  him  here, 
That  cursed  bridegroom  whom  I  knew  so  well. 
And  feared,  since  thou  didst  worship  his  sad 
face. 

0  Senta,  didst  thou  give  him  thy  fair  hand 
Before  he  scarce  had  passed  across  thy  thresh- 
old!" 

She  cried:  "No  more!  Be  still!  I  must!  God 

wills!" 
Scornful  he  spake:  "Oh,  blind  obedience! 
Oh,  heartless  welcome  of  a  father's  whim ! 
Oh,  cruel  blow  that  crushes  my  poor  heart ! " 
Again  she  cried :  "Erik,  no  more!  no  more! 

1  must  not  see  nor  think  of  thee  again ! 
Our  past  is  past,  for  higher  duty  calls!" 
He  fiercely  cried:  "What  higher  duty  calls? 
Is  it  not  higher  yet  to  keep  the  troth 
Which  thou  didst  swear  to  me  in  love  eternal?" 
Cried  she:  "When  did  I  swear  such  vows  with 

thee?  " 
And  quick  he  spake:  "O  Senta,  dost  deny  it? 
Forgettest  thou  that  day  of  days  for  me 
When  in  the  valley  thou  didst  call  to  me 
To  gather  wild  flowers  from  the  mountain's 

crest  ? 
Fearless  with  thee  I  climbed  the  rocky  heights 
48 


SDcatt) 


And  plucked  for  thee  full  many  a  hardy  bloom,   ^fjf 

Dost  thou  forget  how  on  the  highest  crag  CtOth  Of 

We  stood  and  watched  thy  father's  ship  depart, 

A  winged  bird  upon  a  crystal  sky? 

Had  he  not  well  confided  to  my  care 

The  precious  treasure  of  thy  loving  heart  ? 

Didst  thou  not  twine  thine  arms  around  my 

neck 
And  vow  with  me  the  tender  pledge  of  love  ? 
Didst  thou  not  press  the  hand  that  held  thine 

own? 
Pray,  was  not  that  the  sealing  of  our  troth?" 

Now,  as  they  talked  together  earnestly, 
Erik  beseeching,  Senta  in  dismay. 
The  Holland  captain  saw  them  from  afar 
And  thought  that  they  were  making  vows  of 

love. 
And  in  a  quick  despair  cried  hopelessly : 
"  Forsaken  once  again  !  All,  all  is  lost  1 
Forever  lost !  Lost  all  my  hopes  of  Heaven !" 
But  when  he  nearer  drew,  Erik  perceived 
The  stranger,  and  as  now  he  looked  at  him,  — 
The  gallant  gentleman  with  the  sad  face. 
The  wistful  eyes,  the  flowing  Spanish  cloak,— 
The  portrait  on  the  wall  alive  again, 
He  cried:  "Great  God !  what  do  my  eyes  be- 
hold!" 
The  stranger  spake :  "Senta,  farewell  1  fare- 
well!" 
But  she,  who  knew  not  what  was  in  his 

thoughts. 
Bewildered  cried  :  "  Oh,  stay,  unhappy  heart !" 
Spake  Erik : "  Sir,  what  is  it  thou  dost  mean?" 

49 


Cf>0  Then  with  a  deep  and  melancholy  voice, 

Croth  of  ^^^  centuries  of  sorrow  in  its  tones, 
^£ath       ^^  looked  out  to  the  open  main  and  cried : 
-*       "  To  sea !  I  must  put  forth  forevermore ! 
Senta,  thy  sacred  promise  is  absolved! 
Thy  vows  and  my  redemption  are  no  more ! 
Farewell !  I  will  not  crush  thee  in  my  fate!" 
Deep  muttered  Erik :  "God,  what  piteous 

face!" 
But  Senta  called:  "Oh,  stay,  unhappy  heart ! 
From  this  our  home  thou  ne'er  shalt  wander 

more ! " 
The  stranger  bowed,  but  with  his  seaman's 

whistle 
Blew  forth  a  signal  that  departure  neared. 
And  to  the  crew  upon  his  ship  called  out : 
"Set  all  the  sails !  Up  with  the  anchor  there, 
And  bid  farewell  to  land  forevermore!" 

Then  Senta,  as  a  glimmering  of  the  truth 
That  caused  his  jealousy  and  dark  despair 
Came  to  her,  cried  in  pitiful  entreaty: 
"Oh,  dost  thou  doubt  my  faithful  heart  and 

troth? 
Unhappy  soul,  what  blinded  thee  so  quickly? 
Oh,  stay  with  me !  Oh,  do  not  now  forsake  me ! 
Naught  do  I  rue  me  for  the  solemn  promise 
I  vowed  to  thee.  I  shall  forever  keep  it. 
Oh,  stay  with  me !  Oh,  do  not  break  my  heart !" 
Cried  Erik  in  amazement  and  dismay : 
"Great  God,  what  do  I  hear,  what  do  I  see? 
Can  I  believe  my  ears  or  trust  my  eyes  ? 
Senta,  art  thou  determined  on  thy  ruin  ? 
Oh,  come  to  me,  to  me,  O  Senta  dear  1 
50 


Come,  and  escape  from  this  accursed  web  f^h^ 

That  Satan  now  is  weaving  round  thy  feet !"        /arroth  of 

The  Holland  captain  stood  awhile  in  silence,  —      2^^ ^"3 

For  when  he  saw  that  dream  of  fair  young  love, 

And  what  it  meant,  his  heart  at  last  was  touched : 

He  will  not  ask  this  awful  sacrifice. 

He  is  an  age-worn,  sad,  and  weary  man. 

Life  unto  him  is  dry  and  desperate, 

And  holds  but  one  thing  welcome,  — speedy 

death. 
Here  is  a  woman,  good  and  true  and  noble. 
Far  nobler  than  he  ever  thought  or  dreamed ; 
Her  pure  young  soul  has  stirred  his  inmost  life ; 
He  loves  her,  and  he  will  not  let  her  die 
Under  his  curse,  and  share  his  doom  of  death. 
She  is  most  faithful,  sweet,  and  noble  hearted; 
He  will  be  gone,  and  let  her  live  fair  life; 
Again  he  will  go  forth  and  face  the  storms 
And  wander  on  till  doomsday  ends  the  world. 
It  will  not  be  the  same,  for  one  has  loved  him, — 
That  love  will  sweeten  all  his  bitter  life. 
Therefore  he  spake  in  words  of  majesty: 
"  Learn  the  dread  doom  from  which  I  wish  to 

save  thee ! 
Condemned  am  I  to  suffer  bitter  woe ! 
A  thousand  times  death  were  a  happier  lot. 
From  this  accursed  fate  none  but  a  woman 
Can  loose  me,  who  will  pledge  a  love  till  death. 
'T  is  true  that  thou  hast  given  me  thy  promise, 
Yet 't  is  not  ratified  before  God's  throne 
By  sacred  oaths  in  solemn  marriage  rites. 
Here  is  thy  chance  to  end  thy  foolish  words. 
For  know  the  hapless  fatewhich  comesto  them 

51 


SDeatl) 


'CfjC  Who  break  the  marriag^e-vows  before  high 

€rOt!)  of      Heaven,— 

Endless  damnation  is  their  awful  doom ; 

Victims  untold  have  fallen  'neath  this  curse. 

But,  Senta,  I  would  save  thee  from  this  fate,— 

Farewell !  My  last  fond  hope  is  fled  and  gone ! 

Ne'er  for  eternity  shall  I  find  rest!" 

Cried  Erik :  "Senta,  come  to  me,  to  mel 
Oh,  help  her,  God!  Let  her  not  be  destroyed !" 
But,  with  a  loving"  and  an  eager  look. 
She  gazed  up  at  the  stranger's  wistful  eyes, 
And  spake  as  if  a  spell  were  on  her  soul : 
"I  know  thee  well,  and  all  thy  direful  fate! 
I  knew  thee  when  I  first  beheld  thy  face ! 
Thy  bitter  sorrow  now  shall  have  an  end ! 
T  is  I  whose  love  will  bring  thee  thy  redemp- 
tion ! 
Tis  I  whose  love  is  faithful  unto  death!" 
And  as  poor  Erik  and  the  others  cried : 
"  Help  her,  O  God !  Or  she  is  lost  forever!" 
The  Holland  captain  wended  his  slow  way 
Down  to  the  strand,  and  to  his  ancient  ship. 
With  its  black  masts  and  sails  as  red  as  blood. 
And  standing  on  its  deck,  he  seemed  to  grow 
A  larger  spectral  form  as  slow  he  called : 
"Thou  dost  not  know  me,  orbelievest  not; 
But  ask  the  stormy  seas  of  every  coast, 
Or  ask  the  ocean's  oldest  mariners,— 
They  know  this  ship,  the  terror  of  good  men, 
For  I  am  he  men  call  '  The  Flying  Dutch- 
man.'" 
And  at  that  word,  many  have  crossed  them- 
selves 
52 


THE    DEATH    OF    SENTA. 


And  muttered  a  quick  prayer  for  Heaven's        ^h^ 
protection.  ^^^^  ^f 

The  wind  is  raising  and  the  sails  are  full,  HDCflti) 

And  out  to  sea  the  spectral  ship  slow  moved, 
To  sail  the  seas  of  death  forevermore ; 
The  while  the  phantom  sailors  faintly  sang: 

"•y-JTEHOIAhoy! 
Jc^  Captain,  captain,  hast  returned  ? 

Hark,  his  piping,— 'Off  to  seal' 
Him  the  hoped-for  bride  has  spurned, 

Captain,  no  good  luck  for  theel 

"Blow,  ye  storm-winds,  howl  and  blow! 

Hurrah ! 
What  care  we  how  fast  we  go ! 

Hurrah  I 
Satan  fills  our  sails!  Yehol 

Hurrah!" 

Amazed  they  stood  and  listened  on  the  strand. 
Then  suddenly  rushed  Senta  to  the  cliff, 
And  as  they  cried  in  dread  and  consternation: 
"Senta,  O  Senta !  what  art  thou  doing  there?" 
She  raised  her  eyes  to  Heaven  with  the  words : 
"  Praise  to  the  angel  that  hath  chosen  me ! 
Praise  to  the  sweet  command  of  sacrifice! 
My  life  is  naught,  unless  thou  be  redeemed. 
Here  stand  I,  faithful  to  my  promised  love ! 
Here  stand  I,  faithful  to  thee  unto  death!" 
She  spake,  and  fiung  herself  into  the  sea. 
The  people  looked  —  no  phantom  ship  was 

there,— 
Naught  but  a  whirling  eddy  on  the  sea. 

53 


/^u^  All  in  a  moment  black  hull,  blood-red  sails, 

/flTrnffi  of  ^^^  crew,  and  captain  hid  beneath  the  wave. 
croi^  01  -pjjg  billows  rose  and  tossed  in  angry  glee, 
SDCdtl)       Then  backward  fell  in  rushing  whirl  of  foam. 
Like  one  deep  sob.  And  all  was  still  as  death. 

Thus  came  her  marriage  day  and  coronation 

In  a  great  deed  of  utter  sacrifice. 

Her  martyr-spirit  thralled  by  one  desire, 

Stirred  by  deep  pity  to  the  fiercest  passion. 

She  longed  to  do  and  die  for  love's  sweet  grace. 

Feeling  her  father's  will  and  God's  demand 

Upon  her  soul,  she  answered  love's  deep  call ; 

She  made  her  altar  the  wide  shimmering  sea 

In  splendor  of  a  holy  sacrifice, 

To  save  a  sin-curst  soul  shut  out  from 

Heaven. 
Some  say  that  in  the  brightening  eastern  sky, 
Within  the  faint  dawn  of  the  sunrise  light. 
Above  the  ocean  wave  where  sank  the  ship, 
They  saw  a  vision  of  two  radiant  forms 
Embracing  in  a  fond  eternal  love, 
And  floating  up  into  the  open  Heaven. 


THE  END 


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